Folly or Sickness?
by tolkienlover
Summary: Though her job description entitles her complete attention to tactical issues for the Shepherds, Elisabeth can hardly focus on tactics, much less when she notices something is wrong with Gerome. (Gerome X Avatar/Robin; MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR FIRE EMBLEM: AWAKENING; rated T for good measure)


**Author's Note:**

****THIS WRITING CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE GAME _Fire Emblem: Awakening FOR ANYTHING PAST CHAPTER 12. IF YOU WISH TO ACTUALLY PLAY THE GAME THROUGH WITHOUT SPOILERS, I WOULD PROBABLY SKIP THIS ONE FOR NOW. _**

_**Hey guys! It's tolkienlover, and to be fair, I know I've posted a bit already, but I've had a bunch of little things written up that I've been dying to share! Most of it's cute, fluffy junk that's been hiding itself in the back of my mind for ages, but there are a few things that may get uploaded that are serious...maybe. I'm not sure; I do know that I have a ton of OC/male characters from Fire Emblem: Awakening (98% of them are Chrom fics and the other 2% are Gerome and Lon'qu fics) that I've had thought up for awhile. Hopefully, that's what you're into and this is totally cool and cute and you love it, but if not, that's cool too. But hey, if you really like it or really hate it, make sure to comment some feedback; I would really love to hear what you loved or what you think I could fix!**_

**_Anyways, enjoy!_**

**_**Oh, and if you haven't witnessed Gerome's S-level support, there is a bit of a spoiler here. I've changed it around quite a bit, but if you don't want to know what is said, I wouldn't continue. _**

**Disclaimer: The short story written below has content that belongs to Nintendo and the creators of Fire Emblem: Awakening. Only my character belongs to me. Thank you. **

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><p><span><em>Folly or Sickness?<em>

The tactician scowled as she stood across the table from Chrom.

They were having their usual tactics meeting, one that any Shepherd could attend, and it was unlike her to be angry during one; frustrated was more than likely, though, and that's what she came off as she ran a thin hand through her disarrayed hair while looking down at the map on the table. Small blue and black dots were scattered along the lines, showing where they had encountered Risen or Valm soldiers, and then there were the even smaller purple dots that were hardly noticeable in the rough texture of the parchment, the ones that marked where every child from the future had been found. She was staring directly at one on the furthest side, one that was a faded violet and marked with a hastily scribbled "G".

Chrom was speaking to Frederick, who was insisting that they march around one of the places that a big blue dot was found, centered directly between the capital of Valm and the ports. As their tactician, Elisabeth felt she probably should have intervened, but withheld, her thoughts not focused on the up and coming battle days, but rather on something that was nagging incessantly at the back of her mind.

Gerome had missed a parry.

It was so unlike him, to slack even in the slightest way, to miss such a tiny parry on the battlefield. Elisabeth only noticed because he was beside her on the front lines, and she heard his slight grunt of pain when the sword left a slice through the skin at his arm. If she had been able, the woman would have ran to him then and there in the midst of the battle to demand he see a healer. She hadn't been able to, though—a mage from the other side had come up behind her to attack—but she had promised to find him after the skirmish was won.

He had disappeared after the battle before she could get to him, riding away on Minerva just as soon as Chrom called out a victory cry. Elisabeth didn't find that to be such a big deal—she would find him when they got back to camp—but Chrom had called a meeting into session immediately, and she had no time as the man dragged her to the tent and began to speak of strategies right away. She honestly didn't know why he had dragged her along considering her mind obviously wasn't in it today, but he made her stay nonetheless.

And that was where she was now, staring at the mark in the center of Wyvern Valley where they had found Gerome, and drowning out the voices that floated up around her. Elisabeth figured Frederick was still arguing, so when Chrom called her name, she looked up in surprise.

"Elisabeth?" Chrom said loudly, waving a hand in her direction.

Her head snapped up and she blinked at him, her eyes wide. "Oh, my apologies, I didn't think you would need me for a while."

"Frederick seems to think avoiding the hills would be the better idea," the prince said, pointing at the markers for hills on the map, "but I think that going through them would be the better decision. It would take more time, and a bit more effort, though it would be worth the safe passage."

Elisabeth looked down at what they were pointing at on the map, and ran a hand through her hair again, biting her lip. The meeting was small today; Laurent and his mother had attended, alongside Sumia and Nah, but everyone else seemed too busy to make an appearance. She glanced back down to the hills and gave a slight nod. "The hills would make for a safer passage, though we will have to conserve our energy. Frederick, if I may," she reached her hand over the map to place a finger in a place beside the road he was suggesting they use, "this here is hidden in the shadow of the hills. There is bound to be a cave there, and where else would a group of Risen love more to hide during the daytime?"

The knight's face instantly became thoughtful, and he gave a slight bow and nodded. "I see your point, Lady Elisabeth. We shall take the hills, then."

"Wonderful," Elisabeth said, the relief clear in her voice, "Then the meeting is over, Chrom?"

Chrom laughed and looked to his tactician. "That eager to leave? You usually enjoy the meetings."

"I have things to attend to today," she replied simply, and after bowing slightly, she turned around and headed out the tent flap, brushing her hair over her shoulder as she went. She could hear the laughter from the tent as she hurried out, moving around the other tents set up around it until she found her own.

Inside was a small cot with a blanket draped over it and tactical books scattered around the floor, as were her clothes. It was lit by a dimly burning candle that sat beside her cot, the wax dripping down into its iron hold. She quickly searched through her belongings in the dim lighting, muttering to herself, before she found what she was looking for: a small, clear concoction lying under a set of her smallclothes. Elisabeth quickly stowed it into her cloak and then craned her neck to blow out the candle on her way out of the tent.

The air was cooled now in the dusk of the day and it blew across the woman's face as she slowed her pace. _It's not as though he is dying,_ she thought to herself, scolding her own thoughts, _and besides, what makes you think he'll except care from you?_ She shook her head briskly and continued down the path that led straight through the camp to the tent on the very edge of the trees.

Her face relaxed, but her heart sped up as she spotted who she was looking for. Gerome stood beneath the shadow of one of the evergreen trees, his face ever-covered by the dark mask balanced above his cheekbones, while he watched the person Elisabeth could deem as his closest friend speak animatedly to him. Laurent moved his hands and spoke, his cape swishing out behind him as he explained what had happened during the meeting; at least, that's what the woman figured he was doing. He said something else, and Gerome's face tightened; it was visible even with the mask covering his eyes. The mage must have said something that upset him as Gerome gave a brief nod and turned, moving to disappear behind his tent.

Elisabeth watched in confusion until she finally understood—a loud roar echoed from behind his tent and the swishing of wings left a gust of wind to blow up and rustle the trees. Leaves scattered about as Minerva took off, Gerome on her back, and settled to the ground as the wyvern moved higher into the sky. The woman cursed her luck and scowled, hardly noticing the approaching Laurent.

"Good evening," the mage said as Elisabeth turned to face him, her mouth still turned down in a frown, "Have you lost your way from the exact location of the camp? For you look quite misplaced," Laurent steadied his hat and brushed a few leaves from his coat, a stoic smile on his face.

She shook her head. "No, I'm fine, Laurent. Thank you for your concern, but I had wished to see someone here and am just cursing my luck."

"Gerome just departed from the area, if that is who you wished to speak to. He mentioned a piece about heading to the training field," he pointed out over the trees with his free hand gave a nod, "if you still desired to see him."

Elisabeth looked at him in shock. How did he know she wished to speak with Gerome? She gave him her thanks and hurried off to the trees, her hand wrapped around the hilt of her sword hanging from her belt. The forest could be a dangerous place, and though she wished to bring someone with her, the woman felt it would be best to find Gerome on her own. She set off into the dark trees with a quiet sigh, and maneuvered carefully past the branches.

It didn't take her long to find the field that Laurent had been talking about; it was nestled in the center of the trees, just a few dozen footsteps past the start of the tree-line. Her eyes adjusted at first, and then she found him, sparring lightly with his axe in hand with Minerva. The wyvern was being careful, more careful than usual, Elisabeth noticed, and wagged her tail in front of him with a slow motion. Gerome moved to hit playfully at it, but staggered back, his axe dropping from his hand. He hit the ground with a loud _thud._

The woman wasted no time in emerging from the shadows of the trees. She hurried across the clearing, her sword sheathed and her hands outstretched, and was nearly to the man on the ground when Minerva stepped over him to place her open mouth close to the tactician. A loud roar erupted, and Elisabeth stumbled backwards, barely keeping her footing as the wyvern snarled. "Minerva," the woman said quietly, holding her hands out, "It's me, Elisabeth, remember?"

Minerva didn't budge, hiding Gerome's prone form beneath her chest as she stood over him. The tactician took another step back and sighed before looking up into the wyvern's eyes. They were dark as usual, but there was a familiar glint there, one the woman recognized…It came to her in a snap.

"You're protecting him," she said aloud, her voice stretched in awe. That must mean something was truly wrong with the man, though, and made Elisabeth's heart take off into worried pace, thumping heavily in her chest. "I'm here to help him, Minerva. Please!" The wyvern snuffed heavily and let out a puff of smoke, holding herself over her rider. "I can't help him if you don't let me see," she said pointedly, taking another step towards Gerome on the ground.

Minerva gave a low rumbling noise and snorted, before taking a cautious step back, leaving Gerome out into the open air. She watched him carefully, her claw close enough to Elisabeth to hit her down if she threatened him. "He must be very weak," Elisabeth said slowly, bending down to kneel at the man's side.

She rolled him onto his back carefully, using her fingers to tug at his shoulders. He let out a low groan and Minerva made a noise similar to a whine; Elisabeth made a soft, soothing noise and laid Gerome's head down onto the ground as gently as she could manage. He made another moan, and her blood took off into a race against her heart beat, making her head swim. "Gerome, please," she said softly, placing her hand to his cheek—a part of his face that wasn't covered by the mask stretching over his eyes. His skin was burning hot to the touch, and made her pull back in surprise. He was sick. Very.

"You must get up," she whispered, running one of her hands over his hair in a quiet manner, "I have to get you back to the camp." Elisabeth quickly looked up to Minerva, her eyes sharp. "Could you carry us? He's very sick, and needs to be treated right away."

The wyvern bellowed loudly, her chest contracting in her breath as she unfurled her wings. The woman nodded her thanks and looked back down at Gerome with tired eyes, "Gerome, I'm going to move you now. You mustn't resist me, alright?"

She reached to pull at his shoulders when he muttered something. "Leave me," he groaned, shifting his head to the side and clenching his fists.

"Gods, this isn't a time to be stubborn," Elisabeth said under her breath, pulling once more at his shoulders. He twisted in her grasp and fell to the ground once more. "Gerome, I'm serious, I have to treat you soon or this fever can grow into something much worse."

He shook his head, but didn't resist as she yanked with all she had on his rough tunic, pulling him to his feet. The man leaned almost completely on her shoulder and she grunted under his weight as she wrapped her arms around his waist and tugged him closer to Minerva's back. "I've never flown on the back of a wyvern," Elisabeth said quietly to the wyvern herself, her voice shaky, "so you must fly low, but quickly." Gerome was lighter than she thought he would be; he was tall but slight, like a bird, with a quiet heartbeat and a gentle pressure when he held to her arms in desperation. She pushed at his back, and he scrambled onto the backside of his mount. Elisabeth moved to sit behind him, and his head leaned back into her chest, his face twisted into the side of her neck. Her face blushed pink and she quickly tried to shake it off. "This isn't a time to be embarrassed," she said firmly, and with that, clicked her tongue for Minerva to begin.

The air around them whirled, blowing the woman's light hair up into spirals around her face, as the wyvern beat her wings against the ground, trying to gain momentum. Elisabeth clutched tightly to the sides of Gerome's tunic as his nose brushed burningly against her skin. Finally, the ground seemed to shake beneath them as Minerva jumped into the air, her wings battering the air around them and leaving the tactician breathless. She shut her eyes hurriedly to keep herself from looking down; the woman had hoped her first time on a wyvern would be with a conscious experienced rider. A rough breeze whipped at her face as Minerva carried them through the air and down towards the camp.

When she landed, her hind legs catching all of the weight she had balanced into her wings, Minerva gave a quiet rumble to signal her riders. Elisabeth's eyes snapped open and she was pulling Gerome to the ground in an instant, her arm wrapped around his shoulders. He was muttered something about being left alone, but she wasn't having it; instead, she pulled him towards his own tent, which his mount has so kindly dropped them off at, and just as she was about to open the flap, Elisabeth turned to nod at the wyvern, who settled down just outside her master's tent.

Inside the tent was small, smaller than Elisabeth's, with a cot set one of the corners and a pile of clothes on the ground in the other. Gerome pushed his way from the woman's grasp at this point, staggering to his bedside as he shook his head, almost as though he were drunk. The room was dark, so Elisabeth reached for match in her cloak and struck it against the ground, and then held it up over Gerome's unused candle off to the side. It flickered for a moment, and then the room lit up in a glowing light, setting the tent in a space less than darkness.

The man stood quietly beside his cot, holding tightly to the side of it with an unsteady grasp. Elisabeth bit her lip. "When was the last time you've eaten?" She asked, and he didn't reply, only shook his head fiercely and clutched at his head with his left hand. The woman took that as 'a long time', and ran a hand through her hair in frustration. "I'll be back," she said, and the man's head turned to her, his mouth opening in protest, "Be prepared for sleep when I return."

"Don't return," he said gruffly, and his face twisted up in a look of pain, "You needn't do any more kindnesses for me."

"Be ready for sleep, Gerome," Elisabeth turned her back to him and exited the tent, leaving him scowling. She had to find food, though, and water, and perhaps a heal staff if someone could lend one.

After prowling the camp for things she needed, the woman did find a pail to fill with water and a clean cloth, along with a gift of soup from Stahl who didn't ask why she needed it, only shook his head and handed her a bowl. She thanked him profusely and then headed off, without the possession of a heal staff. When she approached Gerome's tent, the candlelight flickered out from beneath the entry flaps and made shadows on the ground, showing her that he had not blown out the candle. She sighed, and pushed the flap open, a pail of water in one hand and a bowl of soup in the other.

Gerome stood in the same place she had left him, but his hands were toying with a buckle on his armor, his mouth turned down in frustration. She bit her lip again and set her things down by the doorway, moving to his side. He shook his head profusely when she approached. "I told you not to return," he said roughly, tugging heavily at his armor.

"And how did you expect to be better?"

"I can take care of myself."

"You can't even get your armor off by yourself," she said, and approached again, this time reaching for the buckle he was messing with. His hand pushed hers away, and she crossed her arms, watching him with intelligent eyes. "You're sick, and that's not going to change unless you let me help you."

He frowned, and looked over at her before giving her blunt nod. "…Fine." He moved his hands from his own tunic and laid them at his sides. Elisabeth sighed in relief. When she took a step forward, he didn't move, only shut his mouth into a thin line and waited. A slight smile turned up at the corner of her mouth as she reached her hands to the buckle at his chest. It came undone beneath the touch of her fingers, and she continued, undoing each of the buckles along his chest-plate before removing it entirely. It hit the ground with a soft thump, but the woman continued, diligently moving her hands to the fastens of his shoulder-guards.

When each piece of his armor had been removed, the man sighed, as though he was in less pain. Yet, his face froze in surprise and his hands reached out to catch around the woman's wrists as she moved to the hem of his shirt. "You can't possibly sleep in these clothes," she argued, her hands still caught by his own on either side of his waist. The tips of her pinkies brushed against the smooth skin that was revealed, and sent electricity flying through her veins. "They're sweaty and dirty, and most certainly not fit to sleep in while you're sick."

"I don't need your help," he said, but his hold on her wrists remained.

She was silent for a moment, and the only sound that filled the tent was Gerome's rough breathing. "If you can tell me how many fingers I'm holding up," she said finally, looked up at his mask with raised eyebrows, "I'll leave and won't say a word to anyone else. But if you can't," The woman skimmed her pinky across the skin at his stomach, "You have to let me help you until you're better."

"Deal," he said instantly, and released his grip on her wrists. She moved one hand to stay beside her face, holding three fingers up by her cheek. The man wrinkled his nose and his head titled slightly before he answered. "Four."

Elisabeth shook her head and her hands moved back to the hem of his shirt, much to his surprise. "You can hardly see straight. There's no way I'm leaving you to yourself," his hands caught hers again and she scowled. "Deal is a deal, Gerome. I held three fingers up and you said four. Now let me help you." Slowly, his fingers loosened, and she pulled her hands free, moving to tug the fabric of his shirt up and over his head.

Her breath caught in her throat; not only because of the smooth, tanned skin stretched over the taunt muscles at his stomach, but because as her fingers brushed over, the heat radiated from him engulfed her in a sense of sickness. He was horribly sick. When the shirt caught on his mask, Gerome moved to hold it against his face as Elisabeth got it over. He shook his hair out wildly, and she gave a slight smile before taking a deep breath.

She ducked down, dropping to her knees, and worked her fingers at the ties of his boots, unlacing them as quickly as she could manage before pulling his shoes off of his feet. She then placed them off to the side beside his shirt, and stood. Gerome wobbled slightly, and she caught him around the neck, her arms wound over his shoulders. "You need to rest," she said softly in his ear, and she heard his harsh breathing stop for a moment. His hands rested hotly at the small of her back, and when she tried to pull away, he wouldn't budge.

"I can do things from here."

Elisabeth groaned and heard him suck in a breath. "No backing out on our deal now," she replied, and he shook his head, resulting in his soft hair brushing out over her face. She then escaped from his grasp and led him to his cot, where he sat down with his legs crossed and watched her with hazy eyes as she moved to fetch the pail and bowl at the front of the tent. Back at his side, she sat beside him on the cot and placed the pail on the ground while holding the bowl of soup in her fingers. Her hold on the spoon tightened as she spooned the broth into it and held it out to Gerome.

"I can—"

"Must you be so stubborn?" she asked softly, "I'm just trying to take care of you. You can't do everything yourself, Gerome."

His mouth tightened and she sighed, handing him the spoon. He raised it to his lips and sucked it down. She made him do this until the bowl was completely empty, and when the last spoonful disappeared into his mouth, she nodded and placed the spoon and bowl onto the ground. She then stood from the cot and ordered him beneath the sheets, leaving only his waist up visible beyond the white color of the fabric. His mask remained, though, and she rolled her eyes at his antics.

When he was laid back against the pillows, she sat beside him, resting her arm against his chest as she dabbed a wet cloth at his hairline. A quiet hum came from her lips as she tended to him, washing the sweat from his forehead before nodding in satisfaction. Carefully, the woman placed her hand to his forehead, only to find it burning just as intensely as it had before. The mask on his face made it impossible to know if his eyes were closed.

"Oh, what am I going to do with you?" Elisabeth said, her face falling at the rising fever. Suddenly, her eyes went bright and she reached into her cloak, only to find the vulnerary she had stored there. Her thoughts quickly went to the injury he had received earlier in the day. With gentle hands, she pulled on his arm, only to gasp at what she saw.

A dark, red line ran down from the tip of his shoulder to his elbow, blood dried around the edges. Her fist clenched tightly at her side as she reached for her cloth. Gerome seemingly wasn't asleep, as he stopped her from cleaning the wound. "I must clean it," she protested, her hand frozen in place.

"Don't worry about it." The man's voice was low and slightly sleepy, but he seemed to be quite alert.

Elisabeth bit at her lip and ignored him, reaching to wipe the cloth along the cut. A hiss erupted from Gerome's mouth, and she murmured under her breath as she carefully applied the concoction. The injury instantly grew a pinkish-red, and faded into a lighter color. The woman than sighed and moved to leave the cot, only to be caught by Gerome's hand wrapping around her arm. It pulled her down, and she gasped as she was pulled to lie down atop the covers, beside the man's face. Though she couldn't see him, he could see her eyes, bright and silver, as they watched him with a curious expression. "Thank you," he said, and she gave him a quiet smile, her head rested on his pillow, "but you didn't need to go through such trouble for me. I try not to meddle in this world, and yet, this world still interferes with me."

"We are friends, correct?"

"Yes, but—"

"Than this is nothing more than an act of kindness," she said, and he relaxed as she ran her fingers along his cheekbone, her touch soft, "For you would do the same for me if I had fallen ill, would you not?"

"Of course," he said quickly, his hand resting just above her hip, "Though it is against my will that I find myself here, I could not have asked for a better person to find me in such a state."

Elisabeth could tell that he was blushing beneath his mask; the pink spread down his neck and across his cheeks and made laugh quietly. "I cannot tell," she said, and her eyes ducked down to glance at her place on his cot, "what your intentions are, Gerome, but I suppose that you can see mine."

"You have feelings for me, yes?"

Her cheeks heated up in response, "This isn't the time to speak of such foolery. You're much too ill—"

"Well enough to see that your face grew red when I mentioned such things," his mouth turned up slightly and she returned it, ducking her head to hide from his gaze that was certainly hiding behind the mask he wore. "I've tried desperately to stay away from this world, and yet, you seem to have found a way through my walls. "

Elisabeth looked up in surprise and she smiled sheepishly before shaking her head. "This is your illness speaking, not you. Perhaps you should get some rest. I'll be going, then." She made no move to stand as Gerome kept his hand on her waist.

"Then let me speak while my walls are down and my mind opened to speak freely," he said, and she sighed before looking back at his mask. "I came to this time with nothing more than an expectation of releasing Minerva—"

"She's livid with you, by the way."

His bewildered expression, visible even beneath his mask, showed. "How do you mean?"

"Minerva's angry with you for taking such poor care of yourself and then not asking for help."

"And how do you know this?"

She shrugged lightly, "I could just tell by her body language. When I found you in field, she wouldn't let me anywhere near you, which is how I knew you were seriously injured. It took me awhile to convince her to move back enough to let me get a glimpse of you."

He shook his head in disbelief. "My mother and I were the only ones who could understand Minerva." The woman opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. "Listen for a moment. Anyways, I intended only to release my wyvern into the wild and then to return to Lucina's side, considering I'm sworn to protect the royalty of Ylisse."

"That's why you were in Wyvern Valley, when we found you, I mean," Elisabeth's face was bright; she was beside herself knowing that the man was feeling well enough to speak, and that she was having a full conversation with him. Those were quite rare.

"Yes. And yet, when we joined the Shepherds, I wished only to be left alone, though you seemed to feel as though that wish was not directed to you." He sighed quietly, and his breath came in a heavy outtake of air. "Before I could realize what was happening…My mind was wandering to where you were, or when you would visit me again, and…I began to realize that I was being foolish," his face was flushed, and Elisabeth reached her hand to dance across the flickering shadow his mask was casting to check his temperature. "How could you feel the same when I gave you nothing but a cold reaction?

Her face stretched into shock and before he could continue, she started her own speech, her face lighting up in happiness, though worry was still slightly sketched into the place between her eyebrows. "I do not know when I wished to be friends with you," she said, and her face darkened, "but I can say that I do not regret it. I know that I saw you tending to Minerva with such care, and taking to make sure that the others were well-taken care of in battle, and how could I not wish that you would hold feelings for me? You were such a hero, and I was merely the tactician."

They were silent for a moment; Gerome's labored breathing the only sound between them until he spoke again, though his voice was rough. "…What was wrong during the meeting today?"

She looked up at him, her eyes widening in surprise. "Nothing at all, it was fine. The meeting went smooth—"

"With you," he said, and his hand tightened on her waist.

"I—I was merely worried, that's all," her tone was curious, and she moved to lie more comfortably, twisting in his hold. "You weren't at the meeting today, though. How exactly did you know?"

His face flushed even darker as he gave her a wry smile. "Laurent told me you weren't in the discussion today, though most days he includes what you have to say."

"Laurent?" Her expression changed into something more thoughtful and she gasped when it hit her. "Has it been _you_ whose been telling him all of those strategies? I knew he wasn't coming up with all of those tactics on his own! He can never give me one when in the middle of the meeting, but when he comes back the next day, he's suddenly a tactic master!"

Gerome chuckled lowly and the girl quickly ran one of her hands through her hair in astonishment. "I should have known it was you," she said, "but why exactly does Laurent include me? I mean, I'm usually a big part of the discussion, sure, but…"

"I—I asked him to," Gerome stuttered, "—to include you in his reports."

"So that's why he thought I was looking for you."

The man tilted his head slightly and she shook her own, trying to clear her thoughts. "I was there by your tent when you were speaking to him today. When you took off on Minerva, he approached me, telling me where you had gone and how to get there. I just never believed…"

"You were looking for me?" He raised an eyebrow so it peaked out over his mask and she giggled lightly.

"That may have been what Laurent was talking about," she said quietly and her eyes drifted to his injured arm, "I saw you take that hit today in battle and wished to speak with you about it, but Chrom dragged me into that damn meeting, and I couldn't get to you in time."

When she finished, the girl reached up to feel along his forehead, and shook her head disapprovingly. "I've kept you from sleep for too long," she said as she ran a finger past his mask, "You need to rest if you ever plan on making the battle in a few days."

"I do not mind."

"Well I do," she said and moved to pull away. He wasn't himself; not the silent, menacing Gerome who would never have spoken to her, much less of let her lay against his bare chest as he radiated with fever. "Perhaps we can speak again when you're well."

His hand reached for hers as she stood, and caught it there, wrapping her small fingers in his wide palm. The skin there was so warm she nearly shuddered. "I'm well enough to say that I enjoy your company."

She hesitated and looked to tent flap, before kneeling down at his bedside. "I wish more than anything to lie at your side," she said, "but I will not take advantage of you in such a state. For my sake, I will wait until you're up and well to discuss what I feel for you."

"Before you go," he said slowly and her mouth dropped as his free hand reached towards his face, "Please, let me tell you how I feel before I lose all courage to do so."

His fingers were nimble, and before she could stop him, the mask at his eyes dropped into his hands, revealing a part of him she had longed to see for so long. Her eyes went straight to his forehead to avoid his gaze; she was afraid that if she looked straight into his own that she would be too quick. Instead, her silver eyes moved to trace along the side of his face, glancing over the skin at the bridge of his nose, before meeting his intense gaze.

She could tell he was with a fever from his eyes that danced dark hazel beneath the candlelight, flickering lightly in the warm light. His eyebrows arched up and over, and the lashes at the end of his eyes were long, casting shadows down over his cheeks. Elisabeth remained quiet, her hands dropped on his cot as she stared at him for as long as she was able.

"Now I can tell you how I truly feel," he said, never breaking eye-contact, "I've always tried to be strong so I can fight alone on the battlefield," His mouth tightened for a moment, and his eyebrows furrowed. Elisabeth reached up instantly, running a hand over his skin.

"Gods, Gerome, you need to rest—"

He shook her off, continuing without her consent, "And I still want to be strong, but now it's for a different reason. I…I want to be strong for you," His face darkened and his eyes flickered, making the girl draw back in surprise.

"For—For me?" Her eyes widened and glistened, her hand reaching to cover her mouth.

"These feelings are new to me," his voice was rough and heavy as he hurried to get each word out, "but I know they run deep. And though I know you harbor a sort of feelings for me, I would ask you say as much now if you have no intentions of returning them the way I do."

She bit at her lip as it stretched into a smile. "Oh, Gerome," her hands went to entwine with his, and despite the fact that she knew he was most likely just speaking from fever and that he was delirious, she couldn't help the words that spilled from her own mouth. "I care for you, too, so deeply…"

He sighed in relief and laid back a bit further in his pillows, his face lessening to a duller pink. "Music to my ears."

"And to prove it, I'll make myself stronger so I can help you as well." Elisabeth spoke in a timid voice, but it was toned with the sound of disbelief and happiness. "And together, we can build such a better future for everyone."

The man smiled as her mouth stretched into a wide grin, her eyes sparkling. "Yes, everyone. My life of solitude ends today." He reached to pull her closer, and she moved to sit at the edge of his bed, close enough to feel the hot air that came from his mouth as he spoke. "From today on we'll hone our edges," he promised, "And together, we'll carve a path to happiness through whatever fate may bring."

Elisabeth gave him a faint smile.

"but first," she said, "we're going to heal you up."

The man sighed heavily.

"If that's what it takes."

* * *

><p><strong>End Note: <strong>

_**...Well? Not too fluffy, right? I suppose that confessing your love while you're incredibly sick isn't such a great idea, but it makes for a pretty great little drabble, heheh. Gerome has always hit me as a guy who is actually really easy to embarrass, so there will probably be a 'sequel' to how he reacts to confessing his love to a woman from his mother's time period later on...tehehe. Poor guy. Thanks again!**_

_**Oh! And I'm really excited to announce that I've been plotting out a long-term Sanjay fanfiction (the butler guy from Harvest Moon: A New Beginning), so please check it out soon if you're interested!**_

_**-tolkienlover**_


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